


Follow the Leader

by chibi_nightowl



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Batfamily Feels, Eventual Humor, Gen, Happy Ending?, Light Angst, Waiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 18:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13840356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_nightowl/pseuds/chibi_nightowl
Summary: Alfred approaches the car first and opens the driver’s side door. “Is everyone all right…” he trails off, eyes widening as he takes in the sight before him.“What is it?” Bruce asks, rushing forward with Stephanie at his side. “Are they okay? Damage assessment, now.”His oldest friend doesn’t say a word, but steps aside so Bruce can see. Frustration mounting, he peers into the car.





	Follow the Leader

**Author's Note:**

> I have other things I should be doing. Many other things. And yet, I write this. Enjoy.

Bruce rubs a hand over his face worriedly. When it’s just him and Alfred, signs that he’s tired or stressed come naturally, unlike with the kids where he feels he always needs to keep up at least some level of composure. “It’s been an hour, Alfred. _An hour._ ” 

“I know, sir.” Alfred stands dutifully at his side, outwardly as calm as can be but his hands, seemingly folded behind his back in his normal _at ease_ position, are clenched tight. Bruce can tell by how rigid his arms are. “But the car started driving fifteen minutes ago and they were all the way across town. They’ll be here soon.” 

It’s not enough. It’s never enough. Bruce wants to be out there, in the thick of things, involved with the case. Not stewing at home in the Batcave with a massive cast on his leg. He’s contemplated sawing it off more than once just to get some mobility back so he can at least drive one of the other cars to get out there and see what the hell happened to his kids. 

Because they’ve been silent on the comms now for an hour. Complete and utter radio silence. Barbara has been scrambling trying to figure out what happened on her end as well, at least Bruce assumes she still is because she’d finally told him to shut up and let her work about ten minutes ago, and then muted her line. 

He can’t lose them. Not a single one of them. There’s a running joke in his family that death never seems to stick, but only Jason finds it funny, his sense of humor morbid and twisted at times, but still dry and caustic as it was when he was a teen, learning to be Robin. His second son always stated that being Robin gave him magic and right now, Bruce wishes a little of that magic would bring each one of his children home. After all, four out of the five had been Robin at some point in their lives. Some of it has to rub off onto Cassandra by sheer proximity. 

Bruce scans the life signs in the car again. Five beating hearts. All thumping harder than usual, but at least they’re all together. Strange though that no one has used the comm unit to contact the Cave. “If they’re all in the car, then at least one of them should have given a status update by now.” 

“I already have the med-bay prepared for the worst, Master Bruce. Doctor Thompkins is on stand-by and Miss Stephanie is on her way." 

Stephanie, now a nursing student at GU. Her abrupt change in major a couple years ago has come in handy more than once and Bruce privately applauds her for it even if he’ll never be able to tell her. 

Taking a deep breath, Bruce lets it out slowly, trying to preserve what little calm is left to him. He’s patched up his boys before, many times in fact. Cassandra rarely ever seems to need more than an ice pack and a bandage wrap. The fact that he has no idea what possibly has happened to any of them is what’s tearing him apart inside. Radio silence for over an hour now. None of his children are ever silent for an hour, not if they’re all together. There’s always some noise. 

Damian grumbling about working with Tim. Tim’s fingers flying over a keyboard, the rapid clicks almost keeping pace with the tapping of Dick’s pen against the side of the table. Dick, unable to keep still unless he absolutely has to, fidgeting and shifting as he twists around in his chair, all the while Jason grousing about someone’s fat ass not being able to keep still. That’ll trigger a random discussion over whose butt is the largest. 

It somehow always ends up being Bruce’s, even when he doesn’t volunteer a single word to the pointless discussion. Neither does Cassandra, but she’ll smile that tiny little smile of hers that reveals just how much she’s enjoying herself with her brothers. In rare moments, Bruce will catch her egging them on, a sly glance here, a contemplative one there. A quick grin when asked a direct question. No, his daughter doesn’t have to say a word and yet she still manages to speak volumes. 

Hooligans, all of them. 

But they’re _his_ hooligans and he wants them back. 

A faint roar in the distance has both Alfred and Bruce looking up. They know it’s not the car, it’s still about ten minutes out, twisting through a randomly chosen path back to the Cave to deter anyone foolhardy enough to follow. 

Stephanie arrives, driving in at almost full speed on her motorcycle. She’s dressed in jeans and an old GU sweatshirt rather than her Batgirl paraphernalia. Normally, Bruce would have a comment about risking one’s identity like this, but he bites it back in favor of being happy to see her. Another set of hands to help if they’re needed. Hands who can help heal as well as deliver a world of hurt. 

Her right hook is a thing of legends. 

“Any news?” the blonde shouts, yanking off her helmet and shaking loose a long braid. She jogs up to the computer platform on sneakered feet. 

“None, I’m afraid,” Alfred speaks up. “The car will be here shortly though.” 

Stephanie makes a pained face. “I really hope this isn’t some elaborate joke on their part. I have a practical tomorrow afternoon and need to study.” 

“If it is, you get to pound on them first,” Bruce offers. “I’ll give you my crutch.” This doesn’t have the feel of a joke though. If it did, he wouldn’t have called her. 

“Thanks.” Stephanie flops down in Tim’s usual chair and spins around, unable to keep still. “You said Cass was with them?” 

Bruce nods. “One of Tim’s snitches mentioned a strange package delivery down in the Tricorner docks. He asked Cass to come inspect it with him and on the way there, Dick and Damian joined them. Apparently, Jason also heard the same news so they all arrived around the same time.” 

“I bet that got loud,” Stephanie states with a wry smirk. She knows all too well what the five of them in one place is like. 

“Explosively, but without actual explosions,” Alfred chimes in. “Master Dick tried to mediate, but the usual tensions ignited.” 

“The last thing we heard from any of them was Jason.” His son’s shocked, breathy _oh shit_ still echoes in Bruce’s ears. 

Stephanie sits up and tugs her knees into her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “How long did it take for the car to pick them up?” 

Facts. Bruce can handle facts right now. “Dick and Damian had it for patrol tonight. It was almost thirty minutes before the locks disengaged. No word on the comm, but there are five heartbeats inside.” 

Five still rapidly beating hearts, well above any of their resting heartrates. He turns back to the computer and pulls up the most recent fear gas formulas from the Scarecrow. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared, even if a blood sample is still needed to be certain. 

There’s another roar in the Cave as the car finally arrives. Bruce lurches to his feet, wordlessly accepting the crutches Stephanie hands to him. The three of them rush to the edge of the platform, looking down into the garage below. 

The sleek Batmobile comes to a stop on the main floor. After a moment, the headlights blink once, then twice, their usual signal for an all clear. But the doors on the car don’t open. 

Bruce growls in impatience as Alfred and Stephanie rush past him on their way down the stairs. His crutches are nothing but a pain in his ass. His children are in that vehicle, and he needs to get to them _now_. 

Alfred approaches the car first, slowly, allowing the biometric sensors to read his signature so that he can open the door without fear of electric shock. The vehicle wouldn’t have let anyone in if they didn’t belong there. The old butler swings the driver’s side door open wide. “Is everyone all right…” he trails off, eyes widening as he takes in the sight before him. 

“What is it?” Bruce asks, rushing forward with Stephanie at his side. “Are they okay? Damage assessment, now.” 

His oldest friend doesn’t say a word, but steps aside so Bruce can see. Frustration mounting, he peers into his car. 

There’s a gigantic chicken sitting in the driver’s seat. Golden brown feathers and a bright red cockscomb at the top of its head. A beady eye glares daggers at him and ruffles its feathers, raising his wings enough so that Bruce can see what’s beneath. 

A little black kitten. Two black puppies of indeterminate breeds. A fluffy golden duckling stands out against all the dark fur. He can’t help but observe the duckling and the kitten are about as far apart under the chicken’s body as possible. 

“Oh my god,” Stephanie squeals, having snuck around and opened the passenger door. “They’re so cute!” 

“Focus,” Bruce snaps. It’s all he can do not to tear his hair out. His children aren’t in the car. They’re _not here_. 

Stephanie picks up something piled onto the floor. It’s Tim’s cape. She drops it and starts rummaging around more. Hope springs forth in Bruce’s chest as she finds Dick’s Nightwing uniform, Jason’s leather jacket, and Cass’s long black cape. 

Looking back down at the chicken, he notices it’s roosting in the hood of Damian’s cape. The chicken is still glaring intensely at him. Only one of his children looks at him like that. “Jason?” he breathes. 

A soft cluck is his reply and the chicken jerks its head away, ruffling his feathers even more and lowers his wings again. 

But one of the puppies nose’s peeks out, snuffling at the air. A little snout follows and soon, a curious little head emerges. Bright blue eyes gaze up at Bruce, blinking sleepily. There’s intelligence in those puppy eyes though and it’s clear when the pup puts two and two together. 

A loud yip of excitement bursts forth and Bruce finds himself with a handful of warm wriggling puppy, licking and nipping at his fingers. 

“Well, that has to be Master Dick then,” Alfred observes dryly. “He’s only still when he sleeps.” 

“That’s still up for debate,” Bruce replies, cradling the puppy close to his chest. His leg twinges in pain from too much weight being put on it but he doesn’t care. These animals are somehow his children. 

The duckling wakes up and casts wide, terrified eyes at the three humans before burrowing back under Jason’s feathers. There’s a loud hiss and the kitten comes streaking out. Stephanie manages to catch him and holds him close. “I’m glad I wore a sweatshirt,” she comments as the kitten’s sharp, tiny nails burrow into the fabric. “If this isn’t Damian, then I don’t know who is.” 

“I think Master Tim has imprinted on Master Jason,” Alfred comments, to which Bruce finds himself nodding in agreement. 

“I don’t understand how this happened.” Bruce directs the question to Jason, who, as the only adult animal appears to be their ring leader. Or wrangler, which seems equally likely. As much as his second son hates to admit it, he can be a mother-hen when he wants to be. 

Which is exactly what he’s doing right now as he comforts the still shivering Tim. The little duck’s tail feathers are peeking out, the downy fluff quivering under Jason’s body. The chicken clucks softly and it finally stops. 

“I sincerely doubt we’ll be getting answers anytime soon,” Alfred states. He straightens up. “Master Jason, blankets are already on the warmer in the infirmary. I assume if you move, the others will follow?” 

A louder cluck is their answer and the large chicken stands, revealing Tim and the other sleeping puppy Bruce can only assume is Cassandra, mellow as she is. Jason walks to the edge of the seat, clucks sharply at the duckling and the puppy who’s already wrapping herself around Tim in search of warmth. He clucks again and jumps out of the car, wings spreading to buffer his ungainly landing. 

The duckling panics and rushes to the edge of the seat, chirping loudly. Bruce watches, bemused, as his third son visibly braces himself and throws himself off the seat. He lands squarely on Jason’s back and tumbles to the cement floor where he promptly takes cover between the chicken’s legs. 

Stephanie is laughing as she comes around the front of the car again, still cradling Damian against her chest. “Oh, I want a copy of the surveillance video. A little scrubbing and I’ve got the next cute baby animal video for YouTube.” 

Bruce doesn’t say anything, still waiting for Cassandra to finish assessing her options. The puppy is displeased her sources of warmth have disappeared. “Cass,” he finally speaks up to get her attention. “Follow Jason. Alfred has blankets waiting.” 

Dark eyes gaze up at him and she yawns widely, revealing sharp puppy teeth. She huffs a sigh and jumps off the seat. 

Jason clucks again, this time with authority. Dick and Damian both start squirming, forcing their respective humans to lower them to the floor to rejoin their siblings. The chicken assesses his little brood and starts towards the stairs, two puppies, a kitten, and a duckling trailing after him. Stephanie already has her phone out and is recording it. 

Bruce knows there’s a bemused expression on his face. He knows and doesn’t care. His children are home and uninjured. It’s a damn sight better than he originally anticipated, so he’ll take it as a victory, even if they still have no idea exactly how this happened. His brain is already taking stock of the possibilities, centering on the suspicious shipment, for all the good it will do him with a cast over most of his leg. 

Instead, while they wait for Zatanna to arrive, he cleans up that video for Stephanie. His children all say he has no sense of humor so it’s time to prove them wrong.

 


End file.
